


Important Things

by VJR22_6



Series: starmoraweek2019 [6]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, because I needed fluff time and also why not, starmoraweek2019, their daughter is here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6
Summary: It comes to Gamora easily, this parenting thing. Peter, not so much.





	Important Things

**Author's Note:**

> Today’s Starmora prompt is “legend/instinct,” my pick was instinct. Specifically, parental instinct. I really like how this one turned out, & I hope you do too!

Gamora cradles their newborn perfectly, her kisses to their daughter’s forehead as gentle as can be. Peter’s hands shake when he holds their little one for the first time, and he has to hand her back before he tears up over her perfect little face. She can rock the baby to sleep in less than a minute, he can’t do it at all. She knows exactly when the baby is hungry, he has to set reminders on his devices to tell him it’s his turn to feed her.

It comes naturally to her. The parenting books said a connection between them is almost immediate. An instant bond between mother and child. Peter’s not jealous, not really, but he wishes he had that. He sings his daughter a little song while Gamora rests, and baby’s unfocused blue eyes don’t leave his face.

He wonders how he’s ever going to do this. She’s small, helpless, totally reliant on others right now. Sure, he’s got the galaxy’s best as babysitters, and their family of outlaws is ready to help care for her from the moment they bring her home. But he’s a father, shouldn’t he know what to do?

Shouldn’t he be the best person for his baby girl?

At least he’s better than Ego or Yondu, that’s certain. He burps and bathes her, blows raspberries on her little tummy and dresses her every morning. Neither of his fathers would have felt a need to do any of that, would have left that all for his mom to do.

He’d never make Gamora do a thing if she didn’t want to. Sure, that means diaper duty and waking at midnight to warm a bottle, but he’s okay with that. She’s better at the soothing-when-crying kinds of things. Besides, it’s easy to set alarms for when he needs to take care of the little one.

He watches Gamora lying on their bed with baby, and envies her for everything. It’s as if she knows exactly what to say to make their daughter smile or laugh, just when to hold her close so she doesn’t get upset. All he knows how to do is the hard work bit.

Then, amidst a whirlwind of growing and learning, Christmas comes around. Peter insists on a full celebration of the holiday, lights and decor all around, and of course they spoil their baby girl with plenty of presents, just waiting to be unwrapped. Peter shows her the tree, pointing out the ornaments each of them picked to put on it.

“This one is Rocket’s. It’s got little pieces so you can’t touch, okay? I’m not gonna touch either.” He holds her in one arm, curious little hands out of reach. With his other hand, he points to a little sword among the branches. “That’s Mama’s. She likes pointy stuff. Can you say Mama, sweetheart?”

“Abababa,” she babbles, looking up at him with adoring eyes. He kisses her forehead. “You’re so smart.”

“Ah!” She squeaks, then giggles and kicks her little feet. She sticks her fingers in her mouth then, poking at the inside of it. “Yep, you’ve got a tongue in there.”

He gestures to the last ornament on the tree. “That’s mine. It’s a little music player, but the old Earth kind. The kind my grandpa had.”

She sticks a finger out at it, sparkling with spit, and he pulls a washcloth from his pocket to dry her off. He’s learned to carry cloth around for little messes.

“You wanna hold this one for a minute? I’d be okay with that,” he offers, and plucks it from the branch. She takes it in both hands, exploring the texture of the record on top and the buttons on one side. “Da-ah-ah!”

“Yep, it’s pretty cool, huh?” He grins, then leans his head back to look into the adjoining kitchen. “Mora, our baby is amazing.”

“I could’ve told you that,” she replies with a smile. He ignores how the comment makes him feel like a useless parent, a feeling he’s kinda getting used to. Instead, he focuses on how she’s wearing an old T-shirt of his, which totally doesn’t send his heart into a flurry, and making some kind of sugary drinks. It reminds Peter of egg nog, sweet but thick, and he’d asked her to make some since it’s Christmas Eve. The taste from old memories eases the long-present homesickness he feels at times like these.

“You almost done, or do you want some help?”

“Ah,” the baby squeaks, dropping the ornament. “Bah-yaya.”

“Bye-bye,” Peter says, as the little clay sculpture makes a thump on the rug. He scoops it back up and hangs it on the tree again, right where he took it from. In the kitchen, Gamora replies, “Just one more thing to add. Do you want to come put the Zune on?”

“Absolutely,” he replies, heading in to her. He feels the baby’s little hands grab the collar of his shirt as he starts walking, and he adjusts how he’s holding her so she feels safer. She babbles the whole way to her little high chair, bolted to the counter. When she sees Gamora, she makes a happy string of sounds.

She never does for Peter.

“Hello, little one,” Gamora greets her. She whispers something in her native language, and the baby responds with a giggle. Peter rolls his eyes, used to his translator failing him with Zen Whoberi words. “What curses are you teaching her?”

“Baby girl. Precious child,” she translates. “Small... person I love? It’s what my mother would call me, when I hadn’t been stirring up trouble.”

“She’d be so disappointed in you now,” he jokes. “Defeating evil across the galaxy, protecting the people, being our daughter’s favorite, what scandals.”

She laughs then, a genuine soft sound, and slides Peter a full glass. Softly, as she fixes a spill-proof cup for their little girl, she says, “You know I can’t help it that she acts different for you and me.”

“I know, I don’t mean to blame you. She does have a favorite parent, though, and it’s not me,” he replies, pulling out his Zune. Then he turns to the baby. “Okay, you little rascal. Christmas playlist, or one of the regular ones?”

“Ba,” she points to the top playlist, simply entitled “XMAS,” and he switches it on. “Good pick, pumpkin.”

The speakers across the room crackle, and burst to life. She practically shrieks in delight as the story of Rudolph begins to play. He grins. “At least she likes the music, huh?”

“Moo-sic!” She echoes, and he feels his heart swell to bursting. “Yeah, baby, music. Good job! I’m so proud of you.”

“Of course that’s her first word,” Gamora teases gently, leaning in to cuddle their beaming baby girl. “That’s wonderful, my love!”

He grins, reaching out to ruffle the little one’s short hair. He might not have the same parenting know-how as Gamora, but their daughter cares about the important things. And that’s what matters to him most.


End file.
